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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28803027">Blood Red Roses</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/megtrieswriting/pseuds/megtrieswriting'>megtrieswriting</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrnieto/pseuds/mrnieto'>mrnieto</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Blood Red Roses [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Death, Crimes &amp; Criminals, Drama &amp; Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Gen, Ireland, Multi, Murder Family, Murder Mystery, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Polyamory, Revenge, Romantic Friendship, Technically., Unrequited Love, Victorian, ill add as we go</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:47:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,210</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28803027</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/megtrieswriting/pseuds/megtrieswriting, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrnieto/pseuds/mrnieto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Conlan and Rose Trase were an unconventional love story for the ages. Born into two families with close ties to one another, they were friends from the beginning. Everyone in town both feared and look forward to the day that they would wed each other. Throughout their decades together, they loved and they murdered many people in the town of Whitehead in Northern Ireland. And though Rose was never the type to be content for too long, she had finally found peace and happiness for once in her life.</p><p>But tragedy strikes outside of a shop, and two lovers are unfairly torn from each other. Rose must now find a way to deal with her grief while also hunting down the bastards that murdered her husband. And her main suspect is the family of her and her husband’s mutual lover, Lorcan Stark.</p><p>NOTE: The concept of Firebrand and the characters of Conlan Trase and Lorcan Stark are all the creations of M.R. Nieto. You can check out his writing at writermatthew on Tumblr. He also has a series of his own called “As Kindred Should”, which you can find on Wattpad.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Blood Red Roses [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2111754</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Four shots rang out like a bell, and Rosaleen Trase’s heart dropped to her stomach. </p><p>“Connie…” </p><p>She hiked up her skirts and dashed out of the shop amidst the screams and the crowds of people breaking away from the ruckus. She stopped short to look at three men running in the opposite direction and then looked down…</p><p>…only to see her husband, Conlan Trase, bleeding out on the road. </p><p>A scream of pure terror tore through Rose’s throat, and she ran to him. The fabric of her skirts brushed against the dirt, and she held her love in her arms as he struggled for breath. </p><p>“Connie,” she cried out as hot tears stained her face. “Connie, no, you bastard! You fucker,” she yelled.</p><p>“Rose,” she heard him speak, and she grew as silent as possible. Cries turned to sniffles and yelling turned to silent whispers and pleas, and she stopped speaking when he croaked out a few words of wisdom through the blood filling his throat. </p><p>“I don’t want you…to cry for my loss,” he said, and Rose wiped away a stray droplet of blood from his face. His hand reached up to cup her face, and she pressed her cheek up against it, and she took his next words to heart. </p><p>“I want you to kill for it.” </p><p>Rose exhaled, and she nodded, trying to show a stony visage through a well of tears, but she was unsuccessful. She gasped out a sob, and she bit her lip, taking a breath and saying the truth. </p><p>“I’ll cry for you today, Connie,” she promised him. “And I’ll kill for you tomorrow. I swear it.” </p><p>“Good. No mercy, love. Right?” </p><p>“Right. Now say you love me, Connie,” she demanded as she held him tighter. Blood stained her sleeves and her skirt, but she didn’t care. What was a bit of blood to her, anyway? “Let those be your last words. C’mon you bastard. Say it.” </p><p>“I do. I love you, Rose. More than I think you’ve ever known.” </p><p>Rose couldn’t keep the tears from falling down her face as she spoke her last words to her husband. </p><p>“I know. And I love you too, Connie. I always did.” </p><p>She leaned down and kissed him hard, savoring the warmth of his lips against hers for the last time. And when she pulled away, he was gone. </p><p>That day, the town of Whitehead in Northern Ireland saw ice queen Rose McKenna Trase cry and keen for her husband, childhood sweetheart, and soulmate. </p><p>***</p><p>Lugh Trase knew that he didn’t look a bit like his father, but he loved him despite that. Losing Conlan Trase shook the whole of the Trase mansion, but no one was more affected than his mother, Rose. </p><p>They called Lugh to the scene, and what he saw shook him. The image of his mother sobbing over her husband’s dead body, blood staining her emerald green dress and a large handprint of blood on her right cheek was an image that burned into his brain for eternity. It would never leave him when he’d close his eyes that night, and every night that followed. </p><p>He approached his mother, a woman who he had never once seen shed a single tear, and he knelt at her side. </p><p>“Mum,” he said, and he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. Even amid a traumatic scene, Lugh tried to keep his sense of calm. “Mum…you need to let go of him.” </p><p>“I can’t,” Rose breathed out, her eyes locked onto the lifeless face of her beloved. “I won’t.” </p><p>“You have to,” Lugh said, and his voice trembled, betraying his outer layer of calm. “You don’t have a choice in this. None of us do. Mum, please. Let him go.” </p><p>As he spoke, his hands - shaky though they were - reached out to take his mother’s arms. Everything else happened quickly. The police officers were taking his father’s body away, and he was leading his mother away from them. He clung to her as she yelled and protested and reached out towards a husband she couldn’t touch anymore. She fought against his embrace, but Lugh persisted and held her tighter until she gave up. She collapsed into a fit of sobs and Lugh gathered her up and helped her walk back home. </p><p>When the Trase’s reached the mansion, Rose headed straight up to her bedchambers and Lugh delivered the unfortunate news to the butler. The older man expressed his condolences and agreed to notify the rest of the staff. But before he could, there was a knock at the door and the butler opened it, Lugh not standing far from the entrance. </p><p>He knew the faces well. The face of the town sheriff and his deputy was always a familiar and rather unwelcome sight to the Trase’s. He didn’t give the butler a chance to speak before Lugh approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. </p><p>“I’ll handle this,” he said lowly, and the butler bowed and left the room, leaving the three men alone.</p><p>“I’d like to speak to your mother about what happened this morning,” the sheriff explained. “Conlan Trase’s death has been ruled as a murder, and we’re looking into who did it. Do you know if she saw the men? Maybe she could give us a description; help us point them out…”</p><p>“My mother won’t be seeing anybody today,” Lugh stated. “She’s not in the right state of mind to talk to anyone at the moment, and I think your unfortunate gobs are the last faces she wants to look at.” </p><p>“Young man, move aside. We demand an audience with your mother, and we need her cooperation in this investigation.” </p><p>“Sir, with all due respect, my mother has never once cooperated with the police. And she’s not about to start now.” </p><p>Lugh didn’t give the men another chance to argue before he slammed the door in their faces and bolted it. He found the butler and gave him strict instructions to not let anyone else in the house, police officers or otherwise, past the entrance to see his mother. </p><p>***</p><p>No one understood Rose’s grief, except for her youngest son and the servants. But even they weren’t sure, for their mistress had locked herself up in her bedchambers and refused to eat a single morsel of food or speak to a soul. </p><p>She just lay in her bed, an empty shell of a person. Her mind raced with thoughts and possibilities, and she went through the laundry list of enemies to see who had done it. </p><p>She replayed the moment in her mind repeatedly. The group of men running away…one of them looked as if they had dark curly hair…</p><p>Rose sat up with her eyes wide, now convinced of who it was that murdered her husband. </p><p>“Stark…” </p><p>Of course. Brennan Stark. No one hated Connie more than that bastard. The Starks and the Trases have loathed each other for longer than anyone could remember. Any house of any note always sided with one or the other; her family always favored the Trases, of course. And the other members of the town learned to keep their nose out of the families’ business if they wanted to keep their noses. </p><p>And the rivalry got even worse when Connie won this very mansion from the Starks in a game of poker. </p><p>So who else could it have been? </p><p>But instead of rising from her bed and planning her revenge, Rose settled back into her mattress and pull the covers over her head once more. She made a promise to her husband before he died in her arms, and she would see it through. </p><p>Today, she’d cry for him. And tomorrow, she’d kill for him. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rose and her family arrive at Conlan Trase’s funeral. Lorcan Stark shows up, and Rose is conflicted. Though she cares for him and she knows Lorcan loves both her and Connie, she can’t bear to see the sight of him because of what she believes his family did to her husband.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Conlan Trase was the most hated, and the most feared man in all of Whitehead, so Rose was certain that there wouldn’t be a sizeable crowd at his funeral. But the Trases were a sort of celebrity in the area, so more people showed up than she ever expected. Many of them offered their condolences, though most of them seemed hollow and trite to her. </p><p class="p1">“He’s in a better place now,” they all would coo, and Rose wouldn’t hide the distaste from her face. </p><p class="p1">“Better than where? Here? With me? Are you daft,” she cried out after hearing someone say that to her for the umpteenth time. The person in question looked at the grieving woman in shock and was quickly ushered away by Lugh while Rose stated she didn’t want to see anyone else. She had heard enough for one day. </p><p class="p1">She marched through the crowd and outside the doors of the funeral parlor, taking out a metal tin filled with the best cigarettes money could buy. She placed the cigarette between her lips and fumbled with her lighter when she noticed someone holding up a light for her, and she took it before realizing who it was. </p><p class="p1">Standing before her, wordless and sorrowful, was Connie and Rose’s plaything, Lorcan Stark. The three of them had always had fun together, fun Rose once thought would wane once they turned thirty, but it was a threesome that stood the test of time, even when the others they played with waned. She had a soft spot in her heart for the man; the soft way he spoke, the elegant way he stood, and the simple way he cared for them always made the stone faced couple melt. And though Connie was her great love, Lorcan was the one who made her see that she could care for someone. </p><p class="p1">So under normal circumstances, his face would be a welcome one. But after what his family did to her husband, he was the last person on the planet that Rose ever wanted to see.</p><p class="p1">“What the fuck are you doing here,” she demanded after dragging the cigarette between her lips and exhaling a puff of smoke. Lorcan looked surprised at the accusation, and she watched as those dark grey eyes of his widened and he stumbled over his words for a moment. </p><p class="p1">“I… I wanted to pay my respects.” </p><p class="p1">“And why would I let you?” </p><p class="p1">He stumbled again, confused. Rose watched him carefully for any hint of dishonesty or remorse, and she regrettably found none. She didn’t know if that annoyed or relieved her, but that didn’t mean she was in the mood to be forgiving towards anyone with the name Stark. Even if that Stark was Lorcan. </p><p class="p1">“Because… Rose, you know why,” he responded in a hushed whisper so no one could overhear them. Which to her was rather stupid. The entire town knew about the three of them already, so the time for secrecy was long dead. “I loved him too, you know? And you.” </p><p class="p1">Rose took a long drag of her cigarette as she thought that admission over. She heard it before from his lips, normally while the three of them were in the throes of passion, but never in a setting where the two of them were in public with all of their clothes on. </p><p class="p1">“You loved us, did you,” she asked after exhaling once more. “How much? Did you love us enough to stand by and watch as your family planned to murder my husband?” </p><p class="p1">She observed him. She watched every brief expression as those words seemed to click in his brain. Lorcan was a smart man, but he was slow to understand things. And this was a tough concept to wrap his brain around. </p><p class="p1">“W… what?” </p><p class="p1">“You heard me. No one hated my husband more than Brennan Stark, and you know it. The entire town knows it. After all, I’m not the only one who thinks this either. I’m sure he’s been planning his revenge ever since Connie won that mansion in a hand of poker.” </p><p class="p1">Rose threw the cigarette on the ground and stomped it out with the toe of her boot before approaching Lorcan, who stood silently in shock. </p><p class="p1">“You tell Brennan Stark,” she began in a low and gravely tone, making sure Lorcan heard every word. “You tell your brother to enjoy his ill-gotten revenge plot. Tell him to bask in it. Because one day, he’s going to get what’s coming to him. And tell him that Rosealeen Mckenna Trase will make sure of that.” </p><p class="p1">Silence fell over the pair. She could tell that Lorcan wanted to defend his family, but she couldn’t tell if it was shock or utter spinelessness that prevented him from doing so. He rarely ever fought with them; he wasn’t the type to hold his own in an argument, and that was something about him that had never changed. Instead, he turned and walked off, and Rose watched as Lorcan disappeared into his carriage, heading over to deliver the message to his elder brother. </p><p class="p1">“Mum? It’s time for the service.” </p><p class="p1">Rose sighed, and she turned to look at Lugh, who was the spitting image of the man who had just left them, her moment of peace over before it could even start. Her son offered his arm and Rose took it, letting him lead her into the church and to the front row where her other two children and their spouses sat as the services began. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>NOTE: The concept of Firebrand and the characters of Conlan Trase and Lorcan Stark are all the creations of M.R. Nieto. You can check out his writing at writermatthew on Tumblr. He also has a series of his own called “As Kindred Should”, which you can find on Wattpad.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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